marital prospects
by krimrose
Summary: "I think I'm going to marry him." To which Korra was talking about the guy that was not Mako. —MakoKorra. AU.


**entitled:** marital prospects  
**summary:** "I think I'm going to marry him." To which Korra was talking about the guy that was not Mako. —MakoKorra. AU.  
**rating:** K  
**disclaimer:** I do not own.  
**foreword:** THIS IS AU. So bear with me.

* * *

"I think I'm going to marry him."

Korra was eight. She had moved to Republic City a year ago with her parents. She lived down the block from Mako and Bolin and though the three didn't get along very well in the beginning stages of their mothers' planned play-dates—Korra beat them at _everything_—the three had settled into stable friendship.

Mako looked at Korra from across the table, his face a firm scowl. "_Why_?" he demanded.

Mako was nine, a year older. While Bolin and Korra have developed this mutually-understanding, let's-stuff-our-faces-with-cake-and-take-on-the-world-together friendship thing, Mako and Korra were always teetering between tolerating each other in Bolin's presence, or try to kill each other behind his back.

On one such occasion—_this morning_—Mako and Korra were having a full-out fire-bending duel. They nearly burned down the whole neighborhood.

So their mothers, trying to calm the alarmed neighbors, made Mako and Korra go on make-up-and-return-to-tolerating-each-other date. Bolin had been sent to go with them for good measure, but along the way, they had lost him. Not that they were too concerned, they would just eat at Narook's Seaweed Noodlery, and Bolin would turn up eventually. (Narook's was his favorite place.)

The two had been sitting happily in their uncomfortable silence until Narook came over with their seaweed noodles. It took Korra about five seconds after the man left to announce her marital decision to Mako.

Much to his distaste.

Korra was slurping her noodles, oblivious to Mako's scowling. (Most times, this was his usual face around her.) Mako tried to bite back his anger because Korra just has _this way_. She always, whether on purpose or unintentional, drove him to the verges of insanity, while donning a look of complete innocence. It really pissed him off.

Her wanting to marry _Narook_ really pissed him off.

"He's old," Mako stated flatly. "And you're only _eight_," he pointed out, as if 'eight' was a very insulting age.

"You're _dumb_, Mako," Korra returned, mouth full of noodles. "Everybody knows age doesn't matter."

Instead of screaming, "You are ridiculous Korra!" Mako opted for a more composed alternative. "What's so good about Narook?"

Korra rolled her bright blue eyes as if Mako was an idiot. "He knows all the good Southern Water Tribe dishes," Korra enlightened. "So it's only proper that I marry him. You know, because he can cook and stuff." Korra was a member of the Southern Water Tribe so it was understandable that Narook's became her favorite place to eat.

_But it was hardly a good enough reason to marry the old man_.

"I can cook!" Mako said rather defensively—his usual cool demeanor was slipping. He quickly straightened himself as Korra looked at him with her eyebrow raised. "I mean," he cleared his throat, returning to a more leveled voice, "that's a stupid reason to marry someone, Korra."

Korra shrugged coolly. "It's good enough for me."

Mako tried to calm the fire burning just beneath his fingertips. "So where does this put us?" he muttered. Not, 'where does this put me and Bolin,' but 'where does this put us,' as in where does this put _them_.

He and Korra.

Oh god, he liked her.

The realization hit him like the cold splash of water Korra would use—ahem, _cheat with_—when Mako's fire-bending got too overwhelming in their duels-to-the-death.

He liked Korra.

He liked Korra who beats him at everything and who easily wrestles him into a choke-hold. He liked Korra who always eats his sweet potatoes when he's not looking and steals his red scarf, prancing around in it, taunting him.

How could he like _that_ Korra?

And now the Korra—tanned-skinned, with bright blue eyes, that laughs at him as he struggles, while she sits victoriously on top of him, but gosh she was so, _so_ pretty when she wasn't trying to fire-bend him to a crisp, _that_ Korra—was busy picking out suitors and Mako was being topped by _a middle-aged man who made noodles_.

"I dunno," Korra shrugged, not taking the situation all too seriously, "Maybe you could be the _other man_," she offered with careful consideration. "There's always another man in the picture and it can't be Bolin because he's like, my best friend. I guess the _other man_ would be you, Mako."

Mako gave her a dirty look. But instead of flipping out—which is what he insides were doing—Mako asked calmly, "And how would that work?"

Korra thought about this while stirring her noodles. "I guess I just won't ever see you and Bolin at meal times," she replied thoughtfully.

Mako didn't know what scared him more: the fact that she could look completely serious while saying that, or the fact that she might really be serious about what she was saying.

Either way, Mako was going to stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life.

"You can't marry him," Mako stated, determined.

Korra raised her eyebrow curiously. "Why not?"

"Because…" Mako gulped, "you have to marry _me_."

Korra blinked, surprised, as Mako stared at her straight-on, despite the fact that his ears were burning from embarrassment. Then, with the utmost politeness, she replied, "No freaking way. I'd rather die."

.

.

.

_fin_.


End file.
